


Just a Punky Little 8-Ball

by ColorlessPalette



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Angst, F/M, Guilt, Murdoc kind of has a heart, Post-Break Up, Reminiscing, Sad Stuart "2D" Pot, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-05-28 18:51:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19400239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorlessPalette/pseuds/ColorlessPalette
Summary: The more 2D thinks about her, the easier it becomes for him to get lost in the past.





	Just a Punky Little 8-Ball

**Author's Note:**

> My first Gorillaz fic! Hope it's a crowdpleaser. Also yes, the title is a Monsters Inc. reference.

The air was thick on the top floor of Kong Studios. Summer heat hit 2D like a truck as he stood, back curved, thin fingers attached to the flimsy railing. The sky in front of him reached out for miles, orange and yellow blending together to form brilliant shades that speckled out across the horizon. A sea of purple clouds accompanied his thoughts as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, feeling the ashy flavor move over his taste buds and breathing out a puff of smoke. 

“Something on your mind, face ache?” 

2D heard Murdoc behind him, picturing him standing in the now open sliding glass doors; arms folded, and a scowl on his face. 

“Oh, ‘ello,” the singer replied blandly, too caught up in his own emotions to care what the green skinned man would say next. “Nothin’ much, Murdoc. Just thinkin’ about days past.” 

Murdoc coughed, not bothering to cover up his germs with so much as a hand. “Great. Good for you. Now, do I need to remind you that we’ve got a gig in about an hour and a half, or do you think your stupid brain can get it’s cogs workin’ before I have to slap some sense into ‘em?” 

2D sighed, and his grip loosened on the cig he had been clutching in his fingers. It fell off the balcony and down into the world below. If a fire started up somewhere in their yard, at least he’d know where his misplaced stick went. 

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” Murdoc exclaimed, thundering footsteps closing in on the spiky haired singer. When Murdoc grabbed his shoulder, 2D let forth a yelp and turned, giving the bassist a good view of the other man. 

2D’s eyes were white orbs, wide enough that Murdoc thought they’d pop out of their sockets. Tears dangled over his eyelids, threatening to spill out with the force of a waterfall; some already had broken loose and we’re covering 2D’s outfit in watery stains. His knuckles were white and dry, his eye bruised, his hair unkempt and dirty and his lip cracked; blood spilling from the wound. It looked as if he’d been involved in a brutal beating, one that even a younger, hostile Murdoc wouldn’t have dished out. 

“For the love of-“ Murdoc muttered, trailing off. “What the bloody hell happened to you, Pot?” 

“I don’t wanna talk ‘bout it.” 

For the first time since meeting him, 2D swore that Murdoc’s eyes held genuine concern. Whether a trick of the light or his own poor eyesight, he had no idea. Murdoc released his grip on 2D and looked him over. “I said,” he repeated, with the tiniest bit of a growl in his voice, “what the bloody hell happened?!” This only caused 2D to step backwards. He reached around on the small table beside him mindlessly, and Murdoc noticed the several beer bottles strewn about the corner of the balcony that he hadn’t seen before. In the middle of them, a small piece of paper. 

Before he could ask, 2D got down onto his skinned knees and broke down. He could only get a few words out, “I… I’m sorry, Murdoc! I tried to- it was stupid, it was!” 

“Are you trying to tell me that you were thinking of kickin’ yer own bucket?” Murdoc asked bluntly, staring down at the weeping 2D. 

“My lace caught on a chip in the tiles. I wouldn't ‘ve actually… jumped!” 

“What, you were just gonna grow a pair of fuckin’ wings and fly away?!” Murdoc exclaimed, wide eyed with what seemed like anger on the surface, but if one were to look closely, they would have seen an alien emotion to the green bassist; fear. 2D felt two meaty hands grip his shoulders. Murdoc was looking straight into his eyes, and for once he noticed that the man’s red eye was anything but askew. 

“Stuart,” Murdoc said shakily, “you’ve got to talk to me.” The singer’s legs felt weak. Part of him felt as though this was a trap, or that if he spoke Murdoc would only become angrier. Nevertheless, what other choice did he have? The thought of jumping again crossed his mind, and 2D quickly squashed it down in his subconscious; not a wise choice, but for the time being it couldn’t be allowed to even exist. He finally looked away and choked out, “I was thinking ‘bout Paula.” 

Even as he said her name after all these years, 2D fought the urge to vomit. Any mention of her immediately made him hot with anxiety. Murdoc’s eyes narrowed. “You were gonna kill yourself over some depressingly ugly lowlife like Paula?” 

“I… I don’t know. Somethin’s wrong with me, Murdoc. I’m having scary thoughts,” was all he could manage. 

The two men sat on the balcony together, reigned by silence. What else was there to talk about? In 2D’s mind, Murdoc would forget all about this and life for him would go back to the way it was, or in the case that Murdoc didn’t forget, 2D suspected a lifetime of humiliation was in store. 

“Listen mate…” 

2D’s eyes began to glow. Sure, Murdoc had called him “mate” before, but with the cadence in the green man’s voice right now, the word seemed to serve a lot more meaning than previous iterations. Murdoc continued, staring down at 2D’s shoes, “I’m gonna say this once, so you’d better fucking listen.” he breathed in deeply, as if his lungs were about to burst from lack of air, then spoke. 

“I don’t care how much you loved her. I don’t care about all the good times you spent with her, or all the… fun you two had. Point is, Paula Cracker isn’t gonna come back. And you gotta get it through your skull that offing yourself isn’t gonna fix what’s left of your heart.” 

Murdoc paused abruptly, and made a retching sound that caused 2D to recoil. “Murdoc, you ‘kay?!” 

He pounded his chest with his fist and stuck his slimy tongue out. “Sorry ‘bout that, got a hair in m’ throat.” The bassist produced a slimy, long strand of brown hair that belonged to neither of them. 2D, despite his condition, shuttered and shook his head with a grimace. 

“You’re hopeless.” 

“That’s the only thing you’ve been right about in your whole life,” Murdoc replied, flicking the hair off of the balcony side. 

“Guess so…” now it was 2D’s turn to stare at Murdoc’s shoes. “She’s pro’ly off eloping with some other jackass, one that ‘as too few brain cells to see what a right bitch she really is.” 

It felt oddly alien to swear, as 2D never used such words for courtesy of Noodle’s youthful ears. But it felt even more foreign to talk about his ex in such a way. His voice shook a bit as he spoke, despite the fact that he thought he owed the words to himself. 

“Wait, what?” 

2D looked up, “Paula, I mean.” 

Murdoc sat up straighter, and for once 2D felt some respect emitting from the man across from him. “Ah, I reckon that. She really was a sellout, wasn’t she? Never really cared about the band in the first place.” 

2D frowned and buried his chin in his hands. “Hey Murdoc… if you agree wif me on Paula, then why’d ya pull that stunt way back when?” 

Murdoc shifted his stance, not that 2D could see anything from his peripheral. He was secretly beating himself over the head for asking that, yet his emotional state remained numb. Chancing a look up, he expected Murdoc to be right in his face, huffing and puffing like a wolf on sleeping powder. But he was surprised to find Murdoc still sitting, with his hand to his face. 

“I was young, D,” Murdoc groaned. “Stupid, I dare say. Not once did I think to use the organ between my ears when it came to consequences.” 

2D was taken aback. Had the grouchy older man just admitted that he was in the wrong? 

“Maybe ol’ Hopper was right. Maybe I really am a knob.” 

“No, no!” 2D exclaimed. “You ain’t no knob, Murdoc. We all fuck up…” he turned his head away. “I sure as hell did when I started dating her. And in a messed up way… you kinda ‘elped me by getting ‘er out of the band.” 

“Bloody hell,” the bassist retorted, “Stu, you don’t gotta make up excuses for me! I don’t even know what I saw in that Cracker." 

“Still,” the singer said, running a hair through his spiky blue hair. “Da fact still stands.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Yep.” 

Another bout of silence passed through before Murdoc cleared his throat and got up from his chair. “Fuck me, look at the time!” 2D perked up as Murdoc patted his shoulder. “You’ve got a concert to get ready for, mate. Better hurry it up.” 

“So… you ain’t gonna lash me ‘lack and blue?” 

Murdoc just shook his head. “Course not! Don’t wanna… add to your complexion.” 

2D lifted his mangled hands up, covered with cuts and bruises. “Oh, right.” 

“Go get yourself cleaned up, Pot. And take that note and burn it to bloody atoms.” 

Not wanting to look at the half written note on the table, he crumpled the paper in his fist and shoved it down his trousers. “Damn right, I’ll burn it.” 

“That’s the spirit,” Murdoc turned to go, but spun around before exiting completely. “Oh, and by the way, face ache…” 

“Mm?” 

Murdoc smiled. “You tell anyone about my… emotions today, and I’ll fuckin’ kill ya.” he let out a throaty laugh that the singer knew so well. 

“Won’ tell a soul.” 

“Excellent, excellent. Now go take care of yourself.” 

Alone with his thoughts once more, 2D took out another cig. Before puffing, he raised it to the now dark sky, nodding his head. “This one’s for you,” he murmured, before inserting the cigarette into his mouth and striding away, making a mental note to thank Murdoc later. 

But somehow, 2D knew that he didn’t have to.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking about writing a series of fics based off of Gorillaz song lyrics... what do you guys think?


End file.
